Reason and Religion: Faithful Doubt

Rev. Mark Stringer

First Unitarian Church of Des Moines

March 10 and 11, 2007

 

“Belief clings; faith lets go.”
–Alan Watts (1915-1973), writer and philosopher of comparative religion

 

 

Meditation (Richard Gilbert)

 

We are precariously perched on the precipice of spring,
trying to shake from our spirits the coldness of snow. 
The heart’s winter is releasing its iron grip upon us. 
We are poised in anticipation of a warmer time.

 

Do I speak only of the pageant of earth’s seasons
or do I mean the procession of the winters and springs of the heart?  Even in the glory of reviving spring,
the reminders of winter deaths are about us—
the yard reveals the refuse of the months. 
It is not unlike the soul—sometimes it is buoyant with new life, sometimes strewn with the remnants of broken dreams.

 

The soul’s journey is as unpredictable as the weather—
temperatures rise and fall with steady mathematical precision
and they also leap and plummet with rude abruptness. 
There is just no telling.

 

But while we may escape winter’s icy hold on our bodies,
there is no escaping the coldness of the heart. 
Mostly, life is not so much an arctic or a tropic clime,
but a temperate one which knows both cold and warmth.

 

There is no escaping the seasons of life—
we simply learn to live with them—
bundle ourselves against the cold
or find cool refreshment from oppressive heat. 
We learn to live with them, for like the seasons,
they pass on and away. 
But how joyous to know that now, for a fleeting moment,
we are precariously perched on the precipice of spring.

 

Reading

Our reading today is from the book Faith by the American Buddhist teacher Sharon Salzberg.

 

One day a friend called to ask if we could meet for tea.  Knowing that I was writing a book on faith from the Buddhist perspective, she was confused and wanted to talk. “How can you possibly be writing a book on faith without focusing on God?” she demanded.  “Isn’t that the whole point?”  Her concern spoke to the common understanding we have of faith—that it is synonymous with religious adherence.  But the tendency to equate faith with doctrine, and then argue about terminology and concepts, distracts us from what faith is actually about.  In my understanding, whether faith is connected to a deity or not, its essence lies in trusting ourselves to discover the deepest truths on which we can rely.[1] …

 

In Pali, the language of the original Buddhist texts, the word usually translated as faith, confidence, or trust is sadha.  Sadha literally means “to place the heart upon.”  … In Pali [as in Hebrew and Latin] faith is a verb.  Faith is not a singular state that we either have or don’t have, but is something that we do.  We “faithe.”[2] …

 

[Another meaning]… of sadha…is hospitality. Faith [in this sense] is about opening up and making room for even the most painful experiences, the ones where we ‘take apart the chord’ of our suffering to find notes of horror, desolation, and piercing fear.  If [we] could be willing to make room for [our] aching numbness, and the river of grief it cover[s], allowing it, even trusting it, [we] would be acting in faith.”[3]

 

Sermon

 

Every month or so Walnut Hills United Methodist Church in Urbandale invites a handful of members from another congregation in the area to come have dinner with them and then to share their perspectives on their approach to religion and religious community.  This past Thursday about a dozen members of our church joined me in taking our turn.  We gathered in their fellowship hall and spaced ourselves around the room so that we could interact with our hosts.  We shared sloppy joes and the kind of sloppy small talk that always comes with these kinds of gatherings.  By sloppy, I don’t mean bad.  I just mean a little awkward, a little rambling, a little hurried.  After all, when you sense that you are in a welcoming place, among friends you have not yet met, and you only have a few minutes to connect in between bites, the conversations can be a little on the sloppy side. 

 

Before too long, it was our turn to talk about our UU religion.  I took the floor knowing that in a room peppered with UUs I would not have to speak for very long.  I joked that the UUs present might be more interested in hearing me try to describe Unitarian Universalism than our hosts.  And the heads of the UUs nodded in agreement.  Sure enough, I could see in the eyes of our members who were present a certain intensity and engagement that I don’t always see standing from the pulpit.  Here was their minister, on the spot.  How would he respond to the assignment, “Tell us about the UU faith”?

 

I admit I felt a little sad as I sensed how hungry my UU friends in the room were for my answers.  I realized that perhaps I don’t spend enough time from this pulpit describing this faith that we share.  And maybe we don’t spend enough time as a community working through that question…together.

 

But the “faith” question can be a difficult one for many of us.  I’m not suggesting that most of us couldn’t answer the question for ourselves, even describing our individual answers to religious inquiries in great detail.  However, when the question is posed in the collective sense, as in “Tell us about the UU faith,” things get a little tricky.   First of all, what can we say about our collective “faith” when we don’t have a creed…when institutionally-speaking we are not expected or even encouraged to believe the same things about the mysteries of life?  What can we say about our collective “faith” when our individual theologies and understandings and religious practices can be so different?  What can we say about our collective “faith” when some of us bristle at the mere mention of the word, believing that the most common definition of it, “religious adherence”, is in direct opposition to our shared emphasis on individual religious freedom?

 

At Walnut Hills, I did my usual tap dance with the question, beginning with a description of the inherent difficulty of trying to describe the beliefs of a creedless religion.  I talked some about the seven principles that we mostly agree mostly summarize what most UUs believe. I spoke about our shared commitment to a democratic approach to religion, where each congregation governs itself, where there is no hierarchy imposed on us from the outside.  And I offered broad stroke descriptions of the different theologies present in our community (some of us believe in God, some of us don’t) and suggested that this diversity of belief is something that not only defines us, but that hopefully, inspires us to learn from one another, and thereby grow our collective identity as religious seekers respectfully open to mystery.

 

After my quick summary, we opened the floor for questions, and predictably, one of the first asked was one most of us have heard when we have tried to describe our religion to those unfamiliar with it.  I don’t recall exactly how the question was worded Thursday night, but the gist of it was, “If you don’t all believe in God, then what is the point?”  There are times when this question has been posed to me with a tone of accusation or anger, which I usually interpret as a mask for the fear that comes with stepping outside of orthodoxy.  But, this night, the question was asked gently, respectfully, with a clear honesty and curiosity.

 

In response, the UUs present joined me in describing what Unitarian Universalism has meant to us as individuals, rather than trying to summarize what UUs as a whole believe, which was, I think, a valid way to answer the question.

 

As Sharon Salzberg points out in today’s reading, the question “How can we talk about faith without God?” is really a question about religious adherence.  For many of us, religion throughout out lives (or at least before our participation in a UU church) has been about expectations of adherence to a particular doctrine, oftentimes unquestioning adherence. To suggest that faith can exist without adherence to a particular perspective simply doesn’t fit for us.

 

I heard a story the other day that epitomizes what so many of us who eventually found our way to a UU church have experienced in other faith communities.

 

Lori A., a former staff member of our church who now lives and works in Nebraska, has an adult daughter named Molly who was born with Downs Syndrome and who, therefore, has, despite her age, remained at the cognitive level of a young child.  Those of you who know Molly, or any child for that matter, understand the gifts of innocent and earnest wisdom that the child-like mind offers.  When I worked with Lori, I always appreciated her Molly stories.  They were often like Buddhist koans, paradoxical anecdotes meant to provoke enlightenment, and this one she shared with me recently is no exception.

 

As Lori and Molly’s father are divorced, Molly spends half her time with her dad, which includes a regular visit to his evangelical mega-church.  Molly enjoys her visits there with all the flashy technology, big crowds and spectacle.  Not long ago, Molly’s dad suggested that she be baptized in the adult immersion ritual practiced at his church.  Molly agreed, Lori didn’t get in the way, and so the baptism took place.  When Molly returned after the big weekend, Lori asked, “So Molly, tell me how did it go?  What happened?” Molly said, “Well, I took off my shoes and walked into the water where Pastor Dan was waiting for me.  Pastor Dan put his arm around me and said, ‘Molly, is Jesus in your heart?’  and I said, ‘uhhh…I don’t think so…’ and Pastor Dan said, ‘Oh yes he is.’ And then he dunked me.”

 

I’m afraid that Molly’s story is painfully on-the-mark for many of us.  Faith, at least as it may have been practiced in our past, has had little if any time for questions…no use for doubt.  We have been expected to just lean back and get the dunking we deserve.

 

However, I have learned from Sharon Salzberg’s book Faith, there is another way to think about faith…another way to follow a faithful path that is more about embracing and learning from our doubt than attempting to avoid it.  Salzberg writes from a Buddhist perspective, a perspective very much in line with how I view Unitarian Universalist practice.  She says that faith is not a word to describe something one is, as in “immersed in the faith”, but rather, what someone does: one “faithes…one places the heart upon.”  Faith is not a destination, but a journey of continuous potential transformation.

 

The first step, or the foundation, of faith, as Salzberg describes it, is seeing that everything changes…everything is in a state of flux.  There is no ultimate certainty beyond our birth and death.  Now, rather than have this uncertainty bring about suffering, a Buddhist sees the overarching uncertainty of life as instructive, as the means to enlightenment.  If everything changes, then so can we.  No matter how difficult things get, the fact that we are alive for another day presents the possibility that we might wake up to the present moment…that we might tap into our inherent resilience even in the midst of extreme circumstances.   Salzberg describes these moments of wakefulness as “the animation of the heart that says, ‘I choose life, I align myself with the potential inherent in life, I give myself over to that potential.”[4]

She tells the story of how she once asked a therapist friend what he thought was the “most compelling force for healing in the psychotherapeutic relationship.”  Her friend replied, “Love.”  Salzberg agreed that love can and does play a transformational role but suggested that something else is perhaps even more instrumental.  “For all we know,” she said, “what is most important to healing in therapy is that people show up for their appointments.”  It is “faith” in the possibility of healing that gets us out of bed and carries us to the place where healing, transformation, love itself is possible.[5]  So the first step of faith is our willingness (whether conscious or not) to show up…to be open…to accept that change is possible…even for us. 

The next step is Bright Faith.  This is the stage in which we don’t just show up to life, but allow ourselves to joyfully engage in its possibilities.  We know “bright faith” when we fall in love, when we are energized by a new way of looking at the world, when we transcend a previously held sense of insignificance, and let go of our cynicism.   I imagine that most if not all of the 19 people who are joining our church this weekend are feeling some bright faith about this place right now…about this approach to religion.  Bright faith is not the same as blind faith, however, the kind of faith that seems like an end in itself.  Rather, bright faith is merely an early step of the faith journey, a step that inevitably leads to the doubt and disappointment stage, the stage Salzberg describes as verifying faith. 

We enter verifying faith when the luster has worn off and we have no choice but to closely examine the teaching or the relationship that awakened our bright faith.  Verifying faith not only welcomes doubt; it demands that we own up to our doubts and work with them, asking questions, seeking whether or not what we have placed our heart upon will make a difference in our lives. Does the teaching or the relationship carry the possibility of transforming our minds? Can it help us be more loving, more engaged, more alive?

Verifying faith, difficult though it may be, is pivotal in our faith journey.  It is where the turning point occurs.  It is where we ask ourselves, “Are we willing to follow this faith journey for the long haul?” toward the next stage of abiding faith, in which we come to understand in a deep way who we are and what in us is true?  The Buddha said, “Don’t believe anything just because I have said it.  Put it into practice.  See for yourself if it is true.”[6]  Verifying faith is where we follow this advice, where we test out our assumptions, where we question and doubt, where we challenge and closely examine so that abiding faith can become a reality.

While doubt is essential in this understanding of faith, the challenge for us is in discerning whether or not the doubt we bring is skillful or unskillful.  Skillful doubt, from a Buddhist perspective, is doubt that is based in honest questions, questions that we ask with a genuine sense of curiosity, questions for which we don’t think we already know the answer, questions that are attempts to bring us closer to the teaching or the relationship.  Skillful doubt is open, inquisitive, vulnerable.  On the other hand, unskillful doubt is about self-protection, about pulling us away, about holding ourselves apart from life so that we can comment on it, rather than work with difficult questions or more closely examine our own tendencies or predispositions. Unskillful doubt leads us to turn away from the possibility that we could learn from those who are different from us.  Unskillful doubt leads us to say “prove it” even as we know we won’t stick around for the answer.

Whenever new members join our church, I remind everyone that we don’t become members of the church by signing the membership book and making a financial pledge.  We become a member the first time we are disappointed and we stay anyway.  I imply when I say this that we become a member when we pass through bright faith and get to verifying faith.

Sometimes we have good reasons to not stay.  Maybe we miss the dogma we left behind.  Maybe this particular community and the ways we interact with it don’t seem to adequately address the needs we bring.  No community can be everything to everyone.  That’s why, in our new member ceremony, we describe this church as the “workshop of our common endeavor, a home from which to journey…and return once again.”

Still, I fear sometimes that Unitarian Universalism, at least as I have seen it practiced, can be far too focused on unskillful doubt, so that we keep ourselves removed from the kinds of exploration and interaction, the creative interchange if you will, that could truly transform our lives.

Salzberg’s description of the dynamic in a workshop she once led, reminds me of some discussions I’ve been a part of in UU communities.  She says:

 

“[My] students…argue[d] vigorously the existence of a personal, theistic God—a theological discussion that led nowhere because there was no final way to answer it.  I wondered, during the whole long, dry duration of the argument, how much the personal pain of any of their lives was being held at bay. Perhaps the unhappiness of a fractured family was staying unaddressed, or maybe an intense need to find forgiveness was being sidelined.”[7]

 

The Buddhist perspective is that obsessing about big, unanswerable questions like “Is there a God? leads only to resentment and sadness.  A more peaceful and wise approach, therefore, would be to seek personal answers to these kinds of questions, answers that might help resolve the suffering in our lives rather than avoid it. 

I believe our UU approach to religion, our commitment to the “free and responsible search for truth and meaning,” operates at its highest potential to transform hearts and minds and to alleviate suffering when we resist focusing on our unskillful doubt…on those unanswerable issues that separate us from each other…and seek instead to explore together our skillful doubt…the honest questions that we can offer as a means to better understand one another and therefore ourselves.

Buddhists say that clinging too tightly to our particular perspective, our particular answers, is like looking at the sky through a straw.  Too much attachment to our way of seeing things leads us to spend more time comparing straws than recognizing the “centrality of the sky.” The challenge, then, is to develop in ourselves the courage to put down our individual straws from time to time so that we might take in the whole sky, or at least look through someone else’s straw, so that we might better recognize the different perspectives that each straw provides. 

 

And therein lies what I think may be the most apt description of our Unitarian Universalist approach to faith:

 

We believe in the value of our individual straws, yes, our individual ways of seeing and making sense of the world.  But more important to us is that we be willing to set aside our own straws and see the world as others see it.  For it is in this opening to what is possible, this opening to what we can never fully see by ourselves, that we can more readily discover that our fundamental nature as human beings is not personal, but unversal.  It is shared, interconnected with everyone else.

 

In a UU context, then, the question “If you don’t all believe in God then what is the point?” might best be answered with another question: “If we all believed in the same God, then what would be the point?”

 

I’ll give Sharon Salzberg the final word. In the epilogue of her book she summarizes the Buddhist and, I contend, the UU perspective on faith when she writes:

“We all have [the] absolute right to reach out, without holding back, toward what we care about more than anything.  Whether we describe the recipient as God, or a profound sense of indestructible love, or the dream of a kinder world, it is in the act of offering our hearts in faith that something in us transforms....  We [don’t]…stand on the sidelines but [leap] directly into the center of our lives, our truth, our full potential.  No one can take that leap of faith for us; and no one has to.  This is our journey of faith.”[8]